


Right Hand on Red

by Gadzooks06, moviemind1219



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Sleepovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 16:32:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2116893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gadzooks06/pseuds/Gadzooks06, https://archiveofourown.org/users/moviemind1219/pseuds/moviemind1219
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac decides to host a Les Amis sleepover.<br/>Twister.<br/>Cards against humanities.<br/>Frozen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Hand on Red

Courferyac was always good at sending out mass texts. In fact, his friends were unsure if he knew how to send out individually addressed notes. Enjolras was used to messages that he only half understood by now, and when the text tone that Courf plugged in for himself went off, Enjolras did not rush to check it. It wasn't until two hours later, when he had finally finished his essay, that Enjolras remembered to read Courf's message. He sighed when he read it- “Sleepover at my house tonight bitches, bring games”- and tried to brainstorm excuses on why he could not attend. He could try to say he had schoolwork to do, but it was a Friday night and everyone knew Enjolras hardly ever procrastinated. He contemplated playing sick, but he had seen Joly that day as a healthy man, and Joly could never lie. Enjolras would just have to suck it up and go to Courf's "slumber party". It was only one night, and if they were at Courf's house they couldn't be bar hopping. Really, the worst that Enjolras could see happening was a drunk Courf making them play party games.  
Enjolras' phone beeped, this time with a text from Grantaire:  
“are you going tonight? Sleepovers are fun ;)”  
Enjolras decided to go to the party.  
…  
Enjolras got to the party ten minutes early, hauling three pizza boxes in with him, Grantaire close behind with four more. Somehow they had been roped into buying and bringing the pizza, Courf claiming that he had already spent enough on beer and wine. Courferyac was on them at once, directing them towards the small kitchen of his apartment where Marius was laying out paper plates and napkins. Marius greeted his friends with warm hugs, already wearing his pajamas, which were composed of a t-shirt, plaid flannel pants, and bunny slippers. Courf was wearing an almost identical outfit, except his slippers were dragons.  
"This is going to be soooo much fun guys!" Courf squealed, herding his friends into the living room, which had been cleared of furniture. Courf threw Enjolras and Grantaire's things into a more secluded corner of the room with wink. "If you need more privacy," Courf stage-whispered, "you can always use Marius' bedroom." All the blood left Marius' face and he quickly walked out of the room. Courf chuckled and blew a kiss to his back.  
"Now we wait for everyone else," Courf said plopping himself down on a nearby couch. " I hope you don't mind Courf, but I invited a friend," Grantaire said, sitting down next to Courferyac and pulling Enjolras on top of him. Enjolras shot Grantaire a look- he hadn't heard about this friend prior to this. Grantaire rolled his eyes at Enjolras and kissed his cheek, "It's only Jehan." Enjolras' face broke out into a grin. He liked Jehan, although he had only just met him. He had just started working at the campus bookshop and Grantaire had befriended him during his new art class. The three men had grown close, despite only knowing each other for a few weeks.  
"Is he hot?" Courf asked, always looking for his next hookup.  
"Ah, yes, Jehan rivals our own Apollo in his beauty," Grantaire answered, "But of course no one is as gorgeous as Enjolras,” he assured his boyfriend.  
Within the next thirty minutes the rest of their friends arrived as follows:  
Combeferre arrived with a bottle of wine and a wrapped package. When Courfeyrac looked at the box with a raised eyebrow Ferre simply said, “It’s a game for later, trust me you’ll love it.” Before the door could close behind the two, a leather clad boot stuck in the door jam.  
“Hey boys don’t shut me out, I brought Clue,” said Eponine before coming through the door and kissing the host on the cheek.  
Enjolras perked up at the sound of one of his favorite games. Grantaire groaned beside him.  
“Ep I told you not to bring Clue to game night anymore, you know how intense everyone gets,” said R with a sigh.  
“YES MURDER! MWAHAHAHAH!” yelled Courf from the kitchen, where he was beginning to mix drinks for his guests.  
Cosette knocked on the door a few minutes later, holding microwave popcorn and a bag full of yarn and knitting needles. "I was going to bring scarves for everyone but I only could make two," she told Courf at the door, "They match though!"  
Soon Feuilly and Bahorel arrived,both holding more alcohol, and if Courf saw Feuilly holding Trivial Pursuit Disney Edition then he absolutely did not say a word. He winked at the boys and took their coats.  
Combeferre was in the middle of one of his classic dirty jokes when a knock at the door and some loud giggles called Courfeyrac away. “If you’re already drunk, then we have a long night ahead of us Bossuet!” Courf called as he approached the door.  
He opened it to find the resident doctor in between his two favorite people. Joly was holding one of each of their hands and his face was bright red, but not from the brisk October wind.  
“Um, am I interrupting something?”  
Musichetta laughed heartily. “No lamb chop, our little Joly here was a little nervous about game night-”  
Bossuet interrupted, “You know, the whole sharing pieces and everyone being in a closed space in a 'ahhhh germs' kind of way.” He smiled down at the even redder Joly.  
“So we calmed him down, with a few drinks and a few kisses.”  
“But mostly kisses,” whispered Joly, beginning to giggle again.  
Courf didn’t really understand how their relationship worked, but he did know that it did work. He has never met three happier people in his life, and he honestly wished he had someone who could make him giggle like that- and not just Combeferre on occasion with his specialty jokes.  
He made way for them in the doorway and the rest of their friends erupted into shouts seeing that Les Amis was what it was meant to be: complete. Or so they thought.

Fifteen minutes after everyone else had arrived, there was a firm but gentle knock at the door. Courferyac jumped up from the couch and practically ran to the door singing, “I’ve got it.”  
“Hot damn,” Courf squeaked out when he opened the door to a gorgeous man standing in the hallway. The man blushed and smiled at the floor. His long, thick hair was perfectly braided, a single white flower tucked behind his ear. A few loose strands of hair fell in front of his face, blocking his eyes from view.  
“I’m Jean Prouvaire, but call me Jehan. Thanks for having me.”  
Courf opened up the door all the way and flourished with his hand towards where everyone else was sitting in the living room. And when Jehan walked over to Enjolras and Grantaire, Courf may have checked out his purple skinny jean clad ass.  
Walking back over, Courf grabbed a box from the kitchen table.  
“Who’s ready for Cards Against Humanities ?”  
Jehan took a seat next to Grantaire and Enjolras, the only people he really knew in the whole room. He tucked the loose hair around his face behind his ears, careful not to wrinkle the petals on the flower nestled in his hair. He adjusted the scarf around his neck and put his folded hands into his lap. Courfeyrac seemed like a lively fellow with the energy of a squirrel on LSD in dragon slippers. He’d never played this game before, but wasn’t about to admit it immediately. He’d probably just pick it up as he went, he was good at that. He nervously played with the cuff clasped around his small ear and uncomfortably moved his Doc Martens around.  
He really didn’t know any of these people. He’d seen a few at the bookstore, but never in their pajamas or really this close. He kept his head down and started to draw on the skin exposed where the knees of his jeans were ripped. He’d been excited to be invited, but didn’t actually know there were going to be this many people here. Jehan considered himself a people person, but the amount of people here, combined with the fact that they had all obviously been friends for a while made him a little more subdued than usual.  
“Okay this game is always easier in pairs...dibs on Enjolras!” shouted Grantaire. Enjolras scowled up at him, for R was still sitting in his lap. The scowl went away when his boyfriend kissed him on the forehead.  
“Oh that was a shocker,” muttered Bahorel, who was soon hit in the face by a flying pillow. He saw Grantaire sticking his tongue out at him from across the living room. Before you could say “Feuilly give me a fan I need some air,” everyone had paired up. Bossuet, Musichetta, and Joly were the exception because you couldn’t split those three up, plus Joly threatened to have a fit if they were separated. That only left Courfeyrac and Jehan without a partner.  
“Well it looks like you’re stuck with the new guy,” said Jehan shyly.  
“Clearly they underestimate you, but under all your floral and very very skinny jeans I bet you have a mischievous mind,” Courf whispered in the poet’s ear, “Let’s show them how it’s done.”  
Half an hour later, it was the final round- Combeferre and Eponine versus Courfeyrac and Jehan- they had the most wins of the group and the final card chosen would determine the winner.  
Grantaire picked a black card from the deck, covered his mouth with his hand and showed it to Enjolras, who started to laugh.  
“I went to Mexico with blank and I came back two weeks later with blank?”  
“I went to Mexico with Bahorel and I came back two weeks later with a black eye and memory loss,” muttered Feuilly. Clearly, he said that louder than he meant to because everyone’s heads snapped up to him and Bahorel turned bright red.  
“Do we even want to know?” asked Eponine with a raised eyebrow.  
“We may have accidentally joined a Mexican wrestling team called Los Tigres. And we may have accidentally won the championship,” said Bahorel.  
Mouths dropped all around, and before anyone could say anything Ferre drew everyone’s attention back to the game.  
“I think it’ll be hard to beat that real life scenario, but Ep and I are still going to beat Mr. Dragon Slipper and Purple Jeans over there.”  
“It’s on like Donkey Kong Combeferre!” Jehan had to hold his partner back.  
“I’ve known you for less than an hour and I can already assume this is what you’re like all the time,” Jehan said softly enough that only that Courf could hear.  
“Like what?” Courfeyrac whispered while looking through their pile of cards. He pointed at one that was perfect for the first blank. Jehan nodded and put it face down on the table.  
“A step shy of crazy,” Jehan started, and then looked into those dark brown eyes, “passionate.” His bright eyes sparkled, something that Courf couldn't quite name behind them.  
Courfeyrac’s mouth suddenly went very dry and he licked his lips. He turned away from the poet murmuring something about how he can pick the last card. He grabbed his beer and took a very long drink. As Jehan reached across the table to put the other card down, his shirt rode up a little and a sliver of his back was shone. Courfeyrac put his fist in his mouth and bit down to stifle the noise threatening to escape his throat. He forced his eyes away from the majestic flower-man to find Grantaire watching him from across the room.  
Heat flooded into Courf’s cheeks and before he could come up with some witty comment to hide what was actually happening, R slowly put his index finger in front of his lips and winked. He looked around to see if any of the Les Amis had seen this silent conversation, and everyone was too absorbed in the game to see what had just occurred.  
“Okay, it’s time to determine the winner,” said Enjolras as he began to turn Combeferre and Eponine’s cards over.  
“Ferre and Ep say, ‘I went to Mexico with Napolean Bonaparte- oh I love this already-and I came back two weeks later with a pregnant goat named Tim.’ That will be hard to beat," the room erupted into giggles. As soon as order was restored, Enjolras continued: “Courf and Jehan say, ‘I went to Mexico with a pink pony named Phillip and I came back two weeks later with-guys this is blank what do you want to-”  
Jehan interrupted, “Syphilis, I went to Mexico with a pink pony named Phillip and I came back two weeks later with Syphilis.”  
“True story,” said Courf completely serious.  
The group of friends fell into hysterical laughter. Wiping the tears from his eyes, Enjolras declared Jehan and Courfeyrac the winner. The two high-fived, mission accomplished.  
“Okay la-dee-freaking-da, what’s the next game blondie?” asked Eponine, who apparently is a sore loser.  
“Winners pick,” said Courf. “Jehan, my new friend, why don’t you choose?”  
“Have any of you played Egyptian Ratscrew before?”  
“Egyptian rat-what?” said Bossuet.  
“RATS?! WHERE?!” screeched Joly as he somehow managed to climb onto his boyfriend’s shoulders. Musichetta patted his head, and coaxed him down from his perch.  
“No real rats, I promise.” Jehan rubbed his hands together and starting shuffling a deck of cards.  
Courfeyrac now knew why Jehan had so many scars on his hands. Jean Prouvaire had quickly explained the fast-paced card game and dealt the cards. It was slow at first, but then quickly escalated into a slapping match with a dozen hands gouging each other’s fingers. By the time the first game was over, having been decimated by Jehan, who kept a calm face the entire time and barely broke a sweat. They entered round two, and everyone was set on beating the newcomer. Courfeyrac flipped his ace, Joly placed his first card, a ten, and his second card-  
“SANDWICH!” Courfeyrac screeched at the top of his lungs, his hand dive-bombing into the pile of cards. Grantaire was faster and his hand was smashed by eleven more. He licked his teeth and put the cards into his pile. Jehan grabbed Courf’s shoulders as he pulled his hand away from the carnage and sucked on the heel of his palm.  
“Woops, sorry!” Eponine shrugged.  
“Freaking b-” Courfeyrac was whacked upside the head by Combeferre, who gave him a look. With the massive pile in his hands, Grantaire quickly stole the game. Jehan applauded him while the rest groaned and tended to their hand wounds, “Do you just not feel pain anymore?” Courfeyrac asked him, rolling his wrist.  
“I lost feeling in my hands last round.” Jehan grinned and tucked more hair behind his ear. Courfeyrac bit his lip and readied his hands as Enjolras dealt the cards out. Most of them fell out immediately, leaving a showdown between Cosette and Grantaire. Marius pulled his scarf up to his nose and clung to Bahorel’s sleeve.  
“You’re going down princess.” Grantaire rolled his shoulders and settled in, he had the majority of the cards, the game was in the bag.  
“Don’t be so sure.” Cosette retorted.  
“No slap-ins, let the reigning champion defend his title.” Jehan held his hands out. The group put their hands in their laps and leaned in.  
Cosette flipped her first card. The final round was on. They’re hands were fast, skipping multiple doubles and sandwiches, it was all or nothing. Cosette flipped her last card, a seven. Grantaire grinned as he reached for his victory. Cosette slammed her hand onto the pile, “Sandwich.” She grinned deviously, taking all of the cards and leaving Grantaire gobsmacked. He had three cards left, and hoped they were good. Cosette flipped a King. R kissed his knuckles, one-a nine, two-a four, three-a seven. Cosette collected the remaining cards and devilishly smiled. Grantaire stared at her, trying to think of a decent plan of revenge. His plotting was interrupted by Bahorel.  
“What’s in the bag?” he asked, dangling Combeferre's gift from his hand. Courferyac grabbed it, giggling, “I’m hoping it’s our next game.” Combferre grinned and nodded, “Twister.” There was a chorus of cheers from the group, followed by a squeal.  
“I refuse,” Joly practically screeched, “too many people, too many germs.” Bossuet chuckled and grabbed Joly, snuggling him further between himself and Musichetta. “Don’t worry darling,” Chetta soothed, “you can work the spinner.” Joly let out the air he had been holding in since he last spoke, relieved to be separated from the pool of germs his friends would soon be ‘bathing’ in.  
Courf set up the board. “First round is me, Marius, Ep, R, Enjy, Feuilly, and newbie,” Courf announced. “All the rest of y’all are going to have to wait,” he said with a smirk. Cossette rolled her eyes good-naturedly and made herself comfortable on the couch, pushing Marius towards the board.  
“Right hand on red,” Joly read from the spinner, once everyone was crowded around the board. Shoulders and hips bumped as the group moved to situate themselves on the board. Jehan giggled, bumping his hips purposefully against Grantaire’s, who smiled and bumped Enjolras’. Enjolras only rolled his eyes, putting his hand on the colored circle.  
Five moves later (left leg on green) a shriek was heard. “What happened?” Joly screamed, “Who’s injured?” A spiel of laughter could be heard from the tangle that was Courferyac and Jehan. Marius collapsed, his limbs sprawling across the board. “Courferyac touched my butt!” Marius shrieked, still lying on the floor. The group erupted into a chorus of laughter. Grantaire laughed so much he lost his balance, falling from his twisted-downwards dog position onto Enjolras, who was beneath him and trying to hold himself in a cross-legged-backbend. The two collided and Enjolras let out a grunt as his breath was forced out of his body by his boyfriend- who was now lounging on top of him. Grantaire giggled again, before kissing Enjolras on the lips. Enjolras freed his arms from underneath him and wrapped them around his boyfriend, kissing him back.  
“Ewwwww,” Joly squeaked, hiding behind the spinner. “You lost, so go exchange saliva somewhere else,” he told the the two men, whose kissing was getting dirtier by the second. Grantaire grinned, standing up and pulling Enjolras with him. “If you would excuse us,” Grantaire said, addressing the group, “we were promised a bedroom.” He then ran off, Enjolras in tow, heading towards Marius’ bedroom. Marius, who was still collapsed on the twister matt, groaned and rolled off, admitting defeat to the game and relinquishing his bedroom.  
“Please continue, Joly,” Courf said, polite as can be, after the mat was clear of fallen people.  
“Right leg, blue.”  
“Oh hell no,” Eponine stated, trying to move her leg, “Courf, get your grubby hand off my butt.” She squirmed, moving away from Courferyac’s outstretched hand. Her hips bumped Feuilly pretty hard, but he held firm. Instead, Eponine bounced off him, losing her hold on the board and falling on her face. The group once again broke out into uncontrollable laughter, but Eponine only glared at Courf, blaming him for her loss at the game.  
“And then there were three,” Jehan said, laughing lightly. He was still tangled up with Courf, their legs crossing over each other’s and hands looking like they belonged to only one person. Any sudden movement would have them both tumbling down.  
Feuilly bit his bottom lip, concentrating intensely on the game. He was determined to be the winner and would not give up.  
“Left hand on green.”  
The three managed to move and stay upright.  
“Right hand on red.”  
This move, the first move in the game, was also the last. As Jehan lifted his hand, his balance already precarious, Courf reached out and pushed him. Jehan landed with an “oof” on his back. A long second went by before Jehan, with ninja-like speed, reached out and grabbed Courferyac’s wrist, pulling him down as well. Courf landed on top of Jehan’s stomach, causing another “oof”. Feuilly let out a cry of victory, allowing himself to fall as well. He expected congratulations and applause, but everyone else was watching Courf and Jehan, who seemed to be staring deeply into each other’s eyes.  
In the scuffle, some hair from Jehan’s braid had come loose and fallen into his eyes. Courf was the first to move, and brushed the wayward strands behind his ear.  
“Thanks,” whispered Jehan softly.  
“No problem,” said Courfeyrac.  
But still neither of them had moved from their compromising position, Courfeyrac was practically lying on top of the other man. Both were entranced with each other’s eyes. Time seemed to freeze.  
Combeferre coughed not so subtly and the two jumped apart, each turning a shade lighter than a perfectly cooked lobster. Nobody said anything outright, but no one could hide their ever growing smiles. The next game began and finished in a matter of minutes. Any game that involves twisting and turning the body into crazy positions should not be played by their resident clutz Bahorel. Musichetta won simply because she wasn’t underneath the man in anyway when he fell after the third spin of the wheel.  
“What should we play now?” asked Joly who somehow squished himself between his other thirds on the couch once again.  
“I say we should watch a movie,” said Grantaire, startling everyone.  
Five minutes earlier, Grantaire and Enjolras were laying on Marius’s bed wrapped in his Star Wars sheets, blissfully happy and a little bit sweaty. But, it was the good kind of sweaty so they didn’t mind it one bit. Enjolras’s head was on his boyfriend’s chest, and R was playing with his Apollo’s hair. They heard shouting from the living room.  
“God dammit Bahorel!”  
“Sorry guys,” whimpered the man not seconds after.  
The two laughed from their hiding spot but didn’t rush to move or even put their clothes back on. They simply laid there in silence, listening to the sounds of their best friends. All of a sudden R stopped rubbing circles in Enjolras’s hair and stiffened underneath him. Enjolras lifted his head, concerned something was wrong. He looked up at him.  
“R, you okay?”  
“Yeah, I- I’m actually way better than okay I just-”  
Enjolras waited for the end of that sentence, but it never came. Instead, R sat up, bringing Enjolras with him. He cradled his head gently and slowly brought their mouths together. It was a sweet kiss, lips barely brushing. Enjolras sighed into his boyfriend’s loving touches and grabbed a handful of Grantaire’s hair in an attempt to bring their bodies even closer together. When the kiss finally broke, they were gasping for air.  
“What were you saying?” asked Enjolras breathily.  
“I was gonna say that I think I’m in love with you,” said Grantaire seriously.  
Enjolras’s eyes snapped to stare into a pair of bright blue ones opposite him. He grabbed Grantaire’s hand from the side of his face and brought them to his mouth to kiss. When he looked up, he simply said,  
“I love you too.”  
They kissed once, twice, or eight times more before they finally got dressed- they didn’t even notice that they had swapped shirts. Finally, they returned to the party leaning against one another and holding hands. They walked back into the room just as Joly asked,  
“What should we play now?” Clearly, no one had noticed them walk back to the living room so when Grantaire suggested a movie, everyone jumped and looked at them.  
Combeferre was Enjolras’s roommate so he was the first to notice that Grantaire was wearing Enjolras’s favorite sweatshirt. And Eponine knew Grantaire well enough that the shirt Enjolras was wearing was one of seven shirts R owned that didn’t have paint stains on it. Ferre and Ep looked at one another from across the room and shared a knowing smile and a wink. Their best friends made the cutest couple.  
***  
Les Amis is a group full of very opinionated people. So trying to decide on a movie was like trying to avoid WWIII. There were certain movies that were absolute no-nos.  
Anything with French history involved ended with Enjolras throwing pillows at the TV for historical inaccuracies, but more often than not just for making him mad.  
Chick flicks were a no because, shockingly, it was the girls who hated them. They all knew by now to not disagree with Eponine.  
You could write a novel on why horror movies were a bad choice for Les Amis. Joly couldn’t stand the gore, Bahorel was a nervous screaming mess, Enjolras and Combeferre pointed out when all the scary things were going to happen, Feuilly kept yelling at Blonde Girl #9 to stop screaming and “FOR THE LOVE OF PATRIA DO NOT GO INTO THAT HOUSE,” Courf and Eponine kept laughing at the bad special effects, and Grantaire laughed at the spectacle his friends put on. So horror films were out.  
They finally settled on watching Frozen, because really who could hate Frozen?  
Everyone nestled in with several bowls of popcorn, brought by the ever majestic Cosette. Jehan had changed into his pajama pants with tiny white flowers on them and was squeezing a prized stuffed moose. Courfeyrac wedged himself onto the couch, pushing Bahorel onto the floor to sit next to Jehan and hit the play button. During the course of the film, Bossuet had fallen asleep and Musichetta had the scathingly brilliant idea to try and fit as much popcorn into his open snoring mouth as she could without waking him up. Grantaire and Enjolras were more interested in padding at each other’s chests than actually watching the movie. Only a few of the Les Amis were paying attention, unless there was a song, then everyone was singing, loudly and more off-key than an untuned piano.  
Every so often, Courfeyrac would share some of the knowledge he’d acquired through numerous online sources about the film and everyone would nod and continue watching. Jehan, on the other hand, would initiate small conversations about the interesting factoids and they’d chatter about which lines they thought Josh Gad had improvised and which ones were scripted.  
By the end of the movie, Bossuet had woken up and choked on the ball of popcorn in his mouth, sending kernels all over the carpet, just in time to watch Anna sock Hans in the face, “SUCK IT HANS!”  
Exhausted from the terrible singing and the deep hatred of Hans of the Southern Isles, Les Amis spread out their sleeping bags and blankets and creating one large nest of snoozing geeks. Jehan laid awake, staring up at the ceiling with his moose cradled against his bare chest.  
“Can’t sleep?” Courfeyrac whispered.  
“Not really.”  
“Me neither.” Courfeyrac wiggled his way over to Jehan like a little worm in his sleeping bag so his ear was next to the poet. Now shoulder to shoulder, Courf felt Jehan shiver and realized that he didn’t have a sleeping bag, only a blanket and a pillow.  
“Cold?” Courf asked, his tone sincere instead of teasing for once. Jehan nodded and snuggled closer to Courf, trying to absorb his body heat. Courf smiled and unzipped his sleeping bag, “There’s plenty of room for two.” Jehan silently slipped into the warm sleeping bag and nestled right up against Courf. He no longer cared that they had only just met, he somehow knew that he could trust this man. Jehan took Courf’s warm hand in his and intertwined their fingers.  
A gag was heard from somewhere in the room. “Ewwww, what’s going on over there,” a voice asked. “Are you guys sharing a sleeping bag?” another voice questioned, incredulous. A laugh that was obviously Grantaire’s throaty chuckle came next, followed by, “Jeez Jehan, I knew you were hands on, but….” the sentence dissolved into more chuckles. Jehan’s pale skin reddened and he turned his face into the pillow. Only Courf could hear the muffled “kill me now” that came from the man beside him. Now Courf was laughing softly as well. He kissed the part of Jehan’s forehead that was showing and whispered, “It’s okay, I’m hands-on too.”  
“Okay so if we’re all awake, why don’t we play one more game?” asked Musichetta deviously.  
Les Amis collectively groans but agrees, because it’s a Courfeyrac sleepover and nobody has ever actually slept at one of those. They all shift around their sleeping bag so they’re sitting in one giant circle. Courf grabs some candles, places them in the center and lights them.  
“Alright Chetta, what did you have in mind?” asked Enjolras hesitantly.  
“Truth or Dare my munchkins, what else? It’s impossible to have a sleepover without it. And since it was my idea, I’m going first,” Musichetta hummed while looking around the circle. She was a lioness hunting for her prey.  
“Marius, my little chestnut truth….or dare?”  
“How about dare?”  
“Alright, Courf go get your strongest vodka,” Courf hopped up and ran to the kitchen already knowing what Musichetta, that angel, was going to suggest, “Marius I dare you to take 6 shots in a row of that Russian monstrosity Courf is holding.”  
Marius blanched and started stammering. But Cosette just patted his shoulder and whispered in his ear, and then he was ready. He set up six shot glasses, and Courfeyrac filled each one to the brim.  
“Whenever you’re ready chestnut.”  
One.  
Two.  
Three.  
Four.  
*Hiccup*  
Five.  
And six.  
Les Amis erupts into cheers, Marius starts to sway.  
“Okay, I’m going to regret that so much in the morning.”  
“Don’t worry I’ll hold your hair back,” retorts Courferyac.  
“Fine, Courfeyrac you bastard truth or dare,” Marius says and then hiccups.  
“Dare mon cherie.”  
“I dare you to make out with your new sleeping bag buddy.”  
The grin that was just previously on the goof’s face disappeared. He looked at Jehan and then back at Marius who was giggling like a five year old girl. When he looked back at Jehan, the poet grabbed him and slammed their mouths together. They entwined their fingers in each other’s hair, slowly moving their hands to each other’s sides. They broke apart when Combeferre- it’s always him- coughed.  
Courfeyrac smoothed his curls back down and Jehan fixed his braid. Both refused to look at each other, but their mouths quirked up into tiny little smiles.  
“Well, that was better than I imagined it would be,” said Jehan.  
Courf’s head shot up and he just stared at the man who was wearing the most magical floral pajamas he’s ever seen. He put his hand on the side of his face and brought their lips together for one last kiss.  
“Well hot damn I thought we were playing truth or dare. If we were just going to break off into pairs...or trios,” Bossuet had given Grantaire a fierce look before he continued, “then Enjolras and I would be messing up Marius’s Star Wars sheets again.”  
“I need to burn those sheets,” Marius muttered.  
“Good, I never liked the way Jabba looked at me,” Cosette said sweetly. She winked at Grantaire and he laughed.  
“R, truth or dare?” asked Courfeyrac.  
“I’m gonna go with truth.”  
“Do you really like Enjolras?”  
At that R was silent. He leaned back from where he was sitting next to his boyfriend and looked him up and down. When their eyes met, a secret smile was shared between them.  
“I really like Enjolras, Courf. I may even love him.”  
Bahorel spits out the water he was drinking all over Feuilly. He looks at the duo with the stupidest grin and just shouts,  
“I knew it!” He then looks back to Feuilly and an inhuman sound escapes his throat when he sees just how mad the sopping man was.  
Eponine smacks the back of Bahorel’s head.  
“We all knew it you idiot, now go get a towel before Feuilly rips your head off with his bare hands,” she said.  
While all this was happening, Enjolras’s eyes were still shining as he looked at the man who had captured his heart completely. He took his hand and squeezed it tightly. He was leaning forward, hoping for another kiss when Grantaire blurted,  
“Apollo, truth or dare?”  
Enjolras stops and gets back into a sitting position, his ever-permanent scowl returning to his face.  
“Dare, Dionysus.”  
R chuckled and whispered in his ear, “Kiss me.” And Enjolras was more than happy to oblige.  
“That hardly counts Grantaire,” Joly complained, “Enjolras was just about to kiss you anyways.” Grantaire laughed and turned to face Joly.  
“Fine Joly,” Grantaire said, a smile creeping up his face, “truth or dare?”  
“DARE,” Musichetta yelled before Joly could answer, covering his mouth with her hand so he couldn’t refute.  
“I dare you to lick the toilet seat.”  
Several jaws dropped. This would be a reasonable dare if it had been anyone else. But everyone knew that Joly didn’t do licking. He didn’t do toilets either really, not unless absolutely necessary and sanitary. A whimper was heard from Joly, muffled because Musichetta still hadn’t removed her hand. Bossuet wrapped his arms around Joly from behind and held him against his chest.  
“Can I at least sanitize it first?” Joly asked, once Musichetta had released him.  
“No.”  
Another whimper escaped from the doctor-in-training’s mouth. He stood from the couch, dragging Bossuet and Musichetta with him on a slow march towards the bathroom. He knelt before the porcelain throne and gradually lowered his head so he was in licking distance. Grantaire watched from the hallway, trying not to laugh, as Joly stuck his tongue out so it barely touched the toilet seat before jumping up, pushing everyone out of the way, and running as fast as he could away from the bathroom screaming. His other thirds ran after him with purell and disinfectants, as well as mouthwash, to help the little doctor-to-be.  
The fame continued on, and with Joly missing, Enjolras was deemed to take a turn. Enjolras looked around the room to see who he could ask the infamous question.  
“Jehan, truth or dare?”  
“I’m an open book, truth.”  
“What do you think of the Les Amis?”  
Jehan had to think about that. He had just met these people tonight, and yet he felt like he fit into this island of misfit toys. They were crazy, yes, but they were a family, who seemed to love each other fiercely. And if Jehan loved anything, he loved love. He opened his mouth to speak.  
“I like Doritos,” blurted Marius drunkenly, and he soon fell into a laughing fit.  
The entire circle looked at Marius as he got increasingly more hysterical. Before long, they’re laughing with him. They’re laughing until their sides hurt. They’re laughing until tears run down their cheeks. When the finally calmed down enough to breathe regularly, Jehan cleared his throat.  
“I don’t know if I like you guys as much as Marius likes Doritos but,” Jehan stopped and took the time to look at each of these new friends he’s made, finishing with Courfeyrac, “I like you guys a lot. You shouldn’t work as a group, but you do. And I know I just met you, but I feel like I fit into somehow. You guys feel like home.”  
You could’ve heard a fly fart it was so silent in that circle. Jehan was looking down at his hands, thinking what he said sounded stupid.  
“I’m a poet- ,that shouldn’t have come out so bad.”  
Courfeyrac forced his friend’s head up. His cheeks were streaked with tears and when he met eyes with others around the room, he saw that Courf wasn’t the only one. Jehan wasn't sure if it was his words, the wine, or a combination of both that had reduced his new friends to tears.  
“You’re right. We shouldn’t work. But it’s a miracle that we do. We’re like one giant puzzle, and I think we’ve been missing a piece all along,” said Courfeyrac smiling.  
In that moment, Jehan had never been happier, and he hoped this sleepover was just the beginning of great friendships with these crazy people. He guessed that that was the perk of choosing your family.  
“Welcome to the Les Amis Jean Prouvaire.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to comment about the piece or about any mistakes you may find. Thanks!  
> 


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